


I'm Not Fine

by Mansaeboysbe



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mansaeboysbe/pseuds/Mansaeboysbe
Summary: For three years, his end goal had been her. (insp. by Fine by Taeyon and Habit by Seventeen.)





	I'm Not Fine

**Author's Note:**

> request: “hi!!! can i request mingyu or joshua from seventeen angst? anywho youre comfortable with writing :) based on the song fine by taeyon and habit by seventeen? its fine if habit isnt included :) thank you !!!” -anon
> 
> -Admin Bee

There was something special between them. Maybe it was faith, maybe stubbornness, maybe something else. He was a hard worker by nature and she admired the way he would set his mind to something and refuse to let it go. She could see it in everything he did; whether it was staying late at the studio to record the perfect vocals for an upcoming album, down to the way he remembered a passing conversation between them and four months later she found herself on her dream vacation because he’d been saving ever since she told him she wanted to travel.

For three years his end goal had been her. Everything else he worked towards paled in comparison to wanting to become a better person for her. Someone she would love and admire and want to be with as much as he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. He told her as much the night he slipped a ring onto her finger and whispered “I love you” into her skin until they stopped sounding like words.

But somewhere between “I love you” and a promise of forever, “I’m sorry I can’t do this” got in the way.

“I- I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Mingyu, you can tell me anything, it’s okay.”

“(Y/N), I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just... It’s too much right now. We’re so young and everything is happening so quickly-”

“Well, we don’t have to get married right now if that’s what you want, we can-”

“It’s over, everything. I’m sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Is that what our relationship has been to you? A mistake?”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he pleaded.

“So that’s it then?” her voice wavered on the edge of breaking. He wasn’t looking at her but his answer was clear. Sitting at the dinner table they’d bought together, he’d admitted that forever wasn’t what he wanted anymore. But his excuse was shallow, and she couldn’t help but wonder if someone else had given it to him. Because her Mingyu, the man who found a thousand ways to tell her he loved her, would never say “I’m sorry.”

They only ever said “I’m sorry” in between laughter, after accidentally running into each other or in teasing. Even their arguments ended without the weak apology, both of them searching for more sincere ways to apologize than words that had little more meaning than “it doesn’t matter.”

So the simplicity of “I’m sorry” following the end of their relationship struck deeper than if he had said he wasn’t in love with her anymore.

“I think you should go.”

“(Y/N), wait, I-”

“You can come pick up your stuff tomorrow but for now, you need to leave.”

The chair squeaking against the wooden floor only made her stomach clench more but she pushed out of the room without another thought. Grabbing his coat from the back of the couch, she quickly shoved the garment into his chest before turning to the door. He had given up at this point, shrugging on the coat and crossing over the doorway between her apartment and the hallway outside; a part of her desperately wished he would be stubborn like he usually was. But this wasn’t Mingyu as she once knew him, at some point he had changed and she wished she had been paying attention to see when it was.

“(Y/N)-”

“Goodbye, Mingyu,” she said, slamming the door before he could say anything else. She waited, slumped against the door for one minute, two, until finally he gave in and walked away. When she could no longer hear his footsteps she collapsed, curling into a ball on the floor and crying until she was utterly exhausted.

That night was the beginning of the end of everything they’d put into three years. The night that they’d officially begin to stop speaking to each other unless it was strictly impersonal. A night six months into their engagement that left her with packed boxes crowding the living room and Mingyu going to sleep at the dorm: the first time they’d slept apart in two years.

That had been almost a year ago. And she’d be lying to herself if she said she’d moved on, that she’d completely forgotten him and the life they’d built and planned together, only to have it ripped away when it was nearly in her grasp. she repeated the lies to anyone who asked how she was, coworkers, friends, concerned relatives and their nosy “how are you holding up?”’s over the holidays.

She was fine.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Maybe she hadn’t dramatically changed her lifestyle to going for runs every morning and eating kale like all the lifestyle magazines suggested heartbroken women do but she’d sold her old apartment that held too many memories and moved downtown to be closer to the restless city.

But old habits die hard, and hers seemed to be immortal. Because, while she went out with friends regularly and interacted with her classmates, it was hard to ignore how alone she felt in the early hours of the morning when her apartment was still dark and her blankets weren’t as warm as they once were. Because she could rip up pictures and delete social media posts, but it was harder to erase the memories of going on dates late at night or the way his eyes lit up when she made him laugh when he was exhausted, or dancing in her kitchen because Mingyu insisted they listen to their new album for the first time together.

So, yes, she was fine, because it had been almost a year since their disengagement and she still thought about the man who’d broken her heart and never returned to her apartment to pick up his things.


End file.
